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It’s Christmas eve at 221b Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson just finished decorating the tree in their sitting room. The fairy lights twinkled merrily and reflected off the many glass balls also covering the tree. From their postures and gesticulations even Anderson could have guessed whose idea having a tree this year was.
Sherlock throws himself into his chair with a huff. The doctor takes this lull in the activities to refill their glasses with warm wassail. He presses the warm mug into Sherlock’s hand. John drops a chaste kiss onto jet curls and then flops into his own chair warming his hands around his own mug of the fragrant liquid. They stay like that for some minutes both staring into the fire grate where the hours old fire is burning down to embers.
John finishes his mug and sets it aside. He rises from his chair and closes the distance between himself and his lover. Sinking to his knees he nudges Sherlock’s legs apart. Looking up he sees his gorgeous flatmate gazing down at him. He gently reaches up and makes quick work of the button and zip in front of him. Sherlock shifts slightly in his chair allowing John to pull his trousers and pants down and off.
John leans forward and nuzzles Sherlock’s flaccid penis. He presses a kiss to the tip of Sherlock’s cock and then sucks it into his mouth. After a minute or two of sucking this beautiful cock it starts to harden. Soon it is standing straight up from the nest of dark curls.
Shifting his focus from Sherlock’s cock to his balls, he mouths them sucking one into his mouth gently and then the other. He swipes his tongue up the crease where the thigh meets the torso and nibbles gently at the soft skin of the thigh. John hears a moan from above him and shifts his gaze up to Sherlock. Sherlock has the expression of pure bliss on his angular stunningly beautiful face. His eyes are closed and his head is flung back. John takes Sherlocks’s cock back into his mouth pressing it between his tongue and his palate. Bobbing his head up and down, alternating between taking the cock deep into his throat and shallow sucking of the head and it is soon rock hard.
Sherlock is moaning almost nonstop and John realizes his partner getting close to climax. He sits back on his heels and looks up meeting a pair of widely dilated blue/green eyes. Sherlock looks hazily confused. “Don’t worry love” murmurs John, “I’ve got you.” Sherlock sighs and leans back in the chair closing his eyes again. John pillows his head against Sherlock’s thigh and softly blows a breath over the cock in front of him. When he sees it starting to soften slightly he covers it with his mouth again. He sucks again up and down and simultaneously rubs one finger lightly up and down over the bollocks that are still damp from their previous tongue bath. Above him Sherlock shudders and lets out a surprised “Oh!” He continues his ministrations until, after a few minutes, he feels his lover’s balls draw up slightly. He sits back again turning his face towards Sherlock’s inner thigh and nips the tender skin there. Sherlock has an expression on his face that is half frustration and half elation. He makes a low whining sound in his throat. He really wants to come, but John is in charge. At this point Sherlock is getting desperate. He hates begging but if needs must. “Please, John”. John smiles at this. “ÖK Sherlock, love”. John resumes sucking and the whining returns to moaning. Opening his mouth wide he slid Sherlock’s cock in as far as it would go. Closing his mouth slightly and dragging his teeth gently up and down was making his lover squirm. He sucked on the loose skin covering the cock, pulling it gently, going up and down several times. Then swallowing it to the root, he continued to suck, not letting up. He pressed a knuckle hard into Sherlock’s perineum. “Öh God, oh god, John!” Sherlock panted out. John heard above him as Sherlock’s cock pulsed into John’s mouth. John swallowed around the pulsing organ, drinking down every drop. John looked up at the face above him with an expression like the cat than the cream. Merry Christmas, Sherlock you are the love of my life, I am the luckiest bloke in all of England! Sherlock looked down. He reached down and pulled John into a passionate kiss. “What do you say we adjourn to the bedroom?” Sherlock asked. “Sounds brilliant to me” John said.
John got to his feet, and extended his hand to his husband, pulling him up into his arms, and kissed him. The couple moved hand in hand to their bedroom.
Somewhere a few miles away Mycroft Holmes grabs a couple of tissues and wipes his hands and a small spot of cum where it landed on the desk before him. He sighs and whispers “Joyeux Noël petit frère” and clicks the knob to turn off the CCTV monitor. “Happy Christmas Doctor Watson”.